


Circle the Drain

by FlyingPigMonkey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Cheating, Drug Use, F/M, M/M, Out of Character, Romance, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:43:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingPigMonkey/pseuds/FlyingPigMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let's face it, I love everything about him and I truly believed that we could live happily ever after."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Our Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter! I'm just a fan-girl :) 
> 
> So this is based off the song "Circle the Drain" by Katy Perry. Enjoy!

I love him so much it hurts sometimes. I love the way his white-blonde hair falls into his grey eyes. I love the way his hand possessively grips my hip when we walk through a crowd. I love the way he bites at my lip when we kiss and how he grunts out my name as he releases into me. Let's face it, I love everything about him and I truly believed that we could live happily ever after. But since the end of the war, when we were supposed to run off into the sunset together, things have just gone downhill.

At first, everything was great. Celebrating every night, sleeping the days away in each others arms, free drinks always within reach. But as everything settled down and we began to fall into a routine, I started realizing just how much he was drinking. More often than not, I would come home from work to find empty bottles of Fire Whiskey and his slumbering body passed out on our bed. 

It was even worse to find him awake. I'll walk in through the door to be greeted by him drunkenly feeling me up and pulling us onto the couch. He flops around on top of me for a couple minutes, only to pass out mid-kiss with his hand down the front of my pants. Either way, he's back to the Draco I love in the morning and remembers nothing of it. 

He never drinks when I'm around. I think he really believed for a long time that I didn't notice. On the weekend, everything seems fine and that we really have that fairytale ending. He holds me, tells me that he loves me, that I'm his world. We're happy and I fool myself into thinking that he's finally okay. But come Monday, it all comes back. 

I've tried talking to him, but he quickly changes the subject and refuses to answer anything I ask. I made the mistake of bringing up his short time with the Death Eaters. He immediately jumped up from his chair and punched me in the face several times before running out the front door. He was gone for three days. 

I had just finished calling everyone we knew for the hundredth time when he came stubbing in the door. I yelled at him for scaring me, screamed at him for hitting me. He just stood there, staring at the floor. When I stopped to take a breath, he slowly walked towards me, taking my face in his hands as his soft lips met mine. He tasted of mead, but I let him deepen the kiss and drag us to our bedroom. 

He softly pushed me onto the bed, climbing on top of me. As he slowly unbuttoned my shirt, his lips found my black eye and graced it tenderly. Heavy tears began to fall and he kissed my cheeks dry. His touch was gentle as he removed all our clothes and began to rub my cock. He entered me slowly, whispering how he loved me, how he was sorry, how it would never happen again. We came together in pure bliss and I fell asleep in his arms. 

It was the first night in a long time that we actually made love and not just fucked. 

But the next afternoon, I found him in another drunken stooper on our couch in just his boxer-briefs. What is with him and being naked when drinking? I picked up his clothes and moved to fold them when I felt a large lump in his jeans pocket. I plunged my hand in and my heart dropped. Grasped in my hand was a plastic baggy of little white and pink pills. 

That was it. I couldn't do it anymore. I went to our bedroom and packed all my stuff into an enchanted bag. I placed the baggy on the dining room table next to a scrawled note: 

_Found this in your pocket today. You won't talk to me and you won't get better on your own. I can't take care of you anymore. I'm not sticking around to watch you destroy yourself._

_Don't try to contact me. I hope this wakes you up to what you're doing. Goodbye, Draco, and good luck_. 

_Love Always,_

_Ron_

Pulling on my jacket, I took one last look at him as he snored on the loveseat. I grabbed a blanket and laid it over his shivering body. I made sure his head was facing over the side of the couch before leaving. Tears streamed down my face as I stood in the front yard for a moment before disappariting away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a one-shot that ended here, but after some encouragement I went a head and continued it for a couple chapters.


	2. Fire Whiskey and New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco's POV

Regret pinged through me as soon as my fist hit his soft face, but I couldn't stop myself. Some primal need had taken over and demanded blood. I had told him never to bring up those two years and he promised. Everything was fine and there was no reason to talk about it. But as soon as the words left those full lips, all I saw was red.

I don't know how many times I hit him. When I stopped the look on his face devastated me. It was strained with a deep anguish I had hoped I would never have to see across it. Before I knew it, my feet were carrying me out our door and down the street. 

His voice cried out for me but I was too ashamed to turn back. It wasn't until the sun had set that I stopped and apparited to the Hogs Head. Everyone knew who I was but never said anything, so it had become my favorite pub. I bought a bottle of Fire Whiskey and rented a room upstairs. It was small, dirty, and reeked of stale sex. I settled myself on the rickety bed and lost myself in my drink. 

I spent the whole next day and night drinking, trying to escape Ron's face. Just when I thought I couldn't drink anymore of the burning liquid, he would appear before me; pain twisting his perfect features and ripping the tattered pieces of my heart all over again as I took another mouthful, praying for the numbing darkness. On the third night of drinking, she came in the door. 

I had known her at Hogwarts, one of the Greengrass sisters. I couldn't remember which but I didn't really care as she pulled my arm up the stairs leading to the inn rooms and shoved a small pill into my palm. It was the most amazing feeling and finally blocked my mind of the red head. When she stood before me naked and tried to bring her face to mine, I pushed her down onto my bed on her stomach. She made such awful noises and I knew I was being a bit too rough on her, but I couldn't care less. As I neared my peak, something in me jolted. Quickly, I pulled out of her fully; I couldn't bring myself to come because of anyone else. I tried to back away, but she turned around and grabbed me. I was so close to the edge that her harsh touch shoved me over and she lapped it up like a dog as the sticky mess ran down her face. What a whore. Lightheadedness hit me and I toppled on the bed next to her. 

I didn't wake up until the next afternoon to her pale back to me, littered with red teeth marks. I quietly slipped into my clothes and spotted the bag hanging out of her jacket pocket. I tried to fight the urge to snatch them, but the numbness that single pill had left me with a need for more. As I left the pub I grabbed a bottle of mead from the bar. It warmed my gut as my feet lead me to the Shrieking Shack. During our years at school, it was our safe haven. Almost every night from fourth year to sixth year, we met in the upper bedroom. Our first kiss, our first shag, the first time I told him I loved him, it had all happened in that shredded room. Everything was so simple then. We were happy. But the war changed all that. 

The warm autumn afternoon gave way to a chilling evening before I went home. But standing in the yard, I couldn't bring myself to go in. Pulling the small bag from my pocket, I dug out a chalky tablet and forced it down my dry throat before I walked in the door. He was just getting off the phone as rage visibly flooded his body. As he yelled at me, I could feel the effects of my new friend kick in, giving me the courage to kiss Ron as he reached a pause in his rant. It gave me the strength to show him how much I loved him as we moved to our room and aided me in my apology. Falling asleep, I knew everything was going to be alright. 

I awoke to an empty bed and couldn't believe he had gone off to work. Everything was back to the way it was before the war and he wouldn't take off one lousy day from work for us to bask in each others arms. The nerve of him. 

I tore through the house, searching for all my hidden stashes. Apparently in the three days I was gone he found most of them, but not all. Under the cellar floorboards were two pristine unopened bottles. Leaving one for later, I crashed on the sofa with my bottle and my new friend. The last thing I remember is taking several pills in with one gulp of the burning liquid. 

The chill of night pulled me from my drug induced coma to find a dark and empty house. Gathering up the blanket around me, I wondered into our room to find all his things gone. Panicking, I raced into the kitchen to find my little baggy sitting on a note. How could I have done something so stupid, leaving them out in the open? I quickly took them down into the cellar before grabbing the Fire Whiskey I'd opened earlier but barely drank and sat down next to our phone. 

It took me two hours to call all his friends and even some of mine. Between each call I took a small drink, slowly feeling the burn in my belly extend throughout my body. There was only one more number to call. Oh, how I hated talking to her! She always creeped me out, even in school, but I knew that would have been why Ron ran to her. I didn't even have to say who I was when she answered. 

"He doesn't want to speak to you." 

"Wait, Luna! Please just tell me if he's there. I'm just so worried about him." 

"Why ask if you already know?" 

"Please, just say it." 

"I don't need to." And with that she hung up. 

At least I knew where he was. I decided to go see him, get him to come home. I still had a quarter of my bottle left, so I chugged it before pulling on some clothes. I left with I wide, drunken grin across my face. 


	3. Stubborn Assholes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ron's POV

I apperated into her front yard just as the sun dipped below the horizon. I just stood there, watching it for several minutes before I heard the front door slamming. I turned just in time to see Luna rush into me, wrapping her arms around my middle. I rested my face in her hair as the tears I had been fighting finally fell. I dropped my bag, my arms finding their way around her. I couldn't hold in the sobs anymore, the realization that my world had fallen apart hitting me.

She just stood there, holding me as my legs gave out and pulled us into the tall grass. After darkness fell and my cries died away, she pulled me up from the ground and grabbed my bag before taking my hand and leading me inside. Once I was settled on the couch, she finally spoke: "I'll put the tea on." And she disappeared into her kitchen. I just sat numbly, staring into the fire until she brought us both out a cup of Chamomile. 

Luna sat next to me and said simply, "Talk." 

I told her everything, from slowly noticing Draco's problem to this afternoon and my never wanting to see him again. She quietly sat there, listening. When I was done, she told me I could stay as long as I wanted. 

"Do you think he'll ever get better?" 

She slowly shook her head before replying, "I hope so." She saw my face fall and quickly changed the subject to what the Quibbler was publishing these days. She always had a knack for distracting you whenever you needed to forget something, if just for a little while; I always loved that about her. 

We finished our tea and sat chatting into the night before her phone rang in the other room. I asked her not to answer, that it was Draco anyway, but she did. They talked for only a moment before Luna came back, saying he was on his way. I nodded before going upstairs to her guestroom. 

I should have known that stupid git wouldn't just leave me alone. 

A couple minutes later I heard the loud crack of someone apperating outside. I tricked myself into thinking it was someone else during the silence before his knocks rattled the rickety house. Luna's voice echoed upstairs as she called to him through the door, telling him to leave, that I didn't want to see him. His bangs only became louder as he called out my name. He went on for ten minutes before I finally stuck my head out the window. 

"Draco, would you just leave already?" 

"Ron! Please, I'm really sorry. Could you just come down here so we can talk about this?" 

"There's nothing to talk about. We're through. Just leave me alone." I moved to close the window, but what he said next froze me in anger. 

"Please, Ron! I love you! Please, just come home!" 

I couldn't believe my ears. How dare he say that to me! I don't remember what I yelled at him, all I know is it was horrible. The words just spilled from my heart to my mouth, completely bypassing my brain. It scarily reminded me of when I wore that damned locket during the war. I had never been so mad in my entire life. What was left of my heart broke as I watched his face distort in pain before I slammed the window closed. 

I threw myself into the bed, my work robes still on. I tried to sleep, but my brain just wouldn't settle down. It wasn't until thunder rocked the sky that I realized that I never heard the pop of Draco leaving. When Luna knocked on my door, my suspicions were confirmed: 

That asshole was camping out in her yard.


	4. Fade to Blackness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco's POV

Appariting to Luna's place drunk had to have been the worst idea I'd had in a while.

As soon as I landed, I found myself leaning against her fence, doubled over and wrenching my Fire Whiskey onto the ground. It burned even more coming back up, scalding my throat and nostrils. 

After my stomach was empty, I quickly muttered a cleaning spell and wobbled my way to the front door, knocking hard. She wouldn't open the door though. Instead she just shouted through the wood, saying Ron didn't want anything to do with me and that I needed to go home. But I didn't go there to talk to her, so I started calling out his name, knowing he wouldn't be able to deny me for long. 

He was actually able to hold out longer than I expected, but he finally came to a window above me. I pleaded with him to talk to me, to come home. I even told him I loved him, but that only made things worse. 

I never expected such hate-filled things could ever be spit from those beautiful lips: he could do better than me, he deserved better than me, I am less than nothing , there's no one in this world capable of loving me, I should have done everyone a favor and just died in the war. He didn't even cry while saying it. Not even my father was that cruel. 

And I believed him. Why else would he say those things? But it didn't hurt any less; didn't stop my heart from breaking, from trying to rip itself out of my chest. He was the one good thing I had ever had in my life and I might have lost him for good over some stupid little pills. 

But I refused to leave after Ron slammed the window shut. Instead, I walked myself along the front path to where it met with the fence and sat down against a post, staring back at his window. I had to hope. Once he realized I wasn't giving up without a fight, I knew he would come running back out to me and everything would be fine. 

I sat there into the early hours of the morning, a cold rain gently soaking my shirt and chilled me to the bone. But I still refused to move, even as the dirt around me turned to mud and splashed my jeans. 

I'm a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake. I was raised to have more pride than this. 

The hope of seeing Ron's face full of love again kept me rooted as my milky skin turned sheet white and my lips ghosted blue. I barely noticed the loud crack behind me. My body jumped as his hand harshly gripped my shoulder. Theodore knelt down to look at me properly, concern deeply engrained his features. _If they called him, then I guess he's really not coming out._ My tears began to mix with the rain on my face and I was able to hold back a sob, but only just. 

"Come on, Draco. Let's get you home." 

I slowly nodded as Theo helped me to my feet. I glanced back at that window before he disapparited us away, to see two shadowed figures watching us leave. 

We landed hard in my yard, but Theo kept me from falling over and dragged me inside. He started stripping off my wet clothes, muttering about getting me into a hot shower, but I quickly pushed him off. I told him I could do it myself, but I needed to grab a clean towel from the cellar. He crashed down onto the couch while I went to grab the towel, but my eyes fixated themselves on the floorboard hiding my stash. I just wanted to go back upstairs, but Ron's voice echoed through my brain. And I believed every word of it. So I quickly pried up the wood and snatched my baggy, hiding it in my towel before heading up the stairs and straight into the bathroom, ignoring my friend, and locked the door. I pulled my sopping clothes off, piling them on the floor by the door, and started the water. 

Now, I'm sitting on the loo, staring at the little friend that ruined my life overnight. They promised relief from Ron in the pub, relief from my past in my living room. Sitting here, I can almost hear them whisper my name. Another promise: relief from it all. The horrible things I saw during the war, what I did, Ron's hate for me. 

All gone with one gulp. But can I actually go through with it? 

Man up, Draco. Father always did say you were weak. 

There must be 20 or so in my throat, sticking as they glide down after a drink from the sink. I massage my neck to will them down as I climb into the tub. I sit back, letting the warm water hit my body as my vision turns fuzzy and fades to blackness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one is too upset about me writing about suicide. This chapter was very hard for me to write. I've had a close family member kill themself, so I don't take this subject lightly. But the way I write, I don't do much planning, instead I allow the plot to go where ever it wants and this is where it was telling me to go. I apologize if I upset anyone.


	5. White Washed Rooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ron's POV

The healers said they had done all they could; it was up to Draco.

I spent a whole week sitting in his white hospital room waiting for him to wake up. Hermione practically had to spoon feed me to get me to eat, but I just couldn't keep any of it down. The guilt of pushing Draco over the edge nestled itself in the pit of my gut, refusing to leave no matter what anyone said. My brain wouldn't stop whispering when I was alone with him: _you should have tried harder you selfish prick. And you say you love him? You have no right to even look at him, be in the same room as him._

Part of me knew it wasn't true. Draco was very troubled and refused help, regardless of how many times I asked him and what state he was in at the time. Some people just don't want to be helped. Some people just want to die. Sure, this was the first time he tried anything like this that I know about, but it's understandable for something to happen with the life he's had to live. 

But then again, I was right there and didn't do a damn thing. I could have made him talk about it; I could have forced him to get help, or report him to St. Mungo's for observation, or something. Instead, I stood by and allowed him to sink deeper into depression and addiction, only to toss him out of my life when he became too much to deal with. It was my fault he was strapped to this hospital bed. _If you really loved him you would have stayed by his side and helped him._

I just kept going back and forth, my brain pulling me in two different directions. So I tried not to think about it. Instead, I started talking to him after everyone had gone home for the night. I would tell him about the Quidditch scores in the Daily Prophet, who had come to visit him that day, even the weather. As I felt the tell tale signs of sleep coming on I would apologize every night, for everything, and would hope to Merlin that tonight was the night he heard me. 

On the eve of the eighth day, I was beginning to lose what little hope my heart had miraculously grasped onto. There had been no change that the healers could see; he hadn't moved, not even a twitch. His ivory skin slowly adopted a grey tone and his hair, even though I used a cleaning spell on it every day, lost its healthy shine, turning dull and flat. 

I could barely recognize this limp body laid out in front of me as my love, my everything. 

When I mentioned this to Hermione, the only one of my friends who visited every day, how different he looked, her milk chocolate eyes filled with tears that refused to blink away. Her hand slowly found my free one. 

"I'm sorry, Ron." 

Those three words hit me so hard I didn't even notice her leave. If Hermione, who what always the optimistic one of our trio, had given up then…it really must be true: 

Draco wasn't going to wake up. 

My soft grip on his hand turned vice-like as I leaned back in my chair, hot tears streaming down my face as I watched his chest slowly rise and fall. _I've killed him._ My brain echoed back at me that horrible truth for what felt like hours until emotional exhaustion catapulted me into slumber. 

I awoke the next morning to what oddly sounded like the stiff hospital bed next to me shifting. My eyes slowly fluttered open as my free arm stretched high about my head, attempting to work out the kinks in my back without having to let go of Draco's strong grip. 

…wait a minute. 

My gaze shot to the blonde sitting up in the bed next to me. This must be a dream! Quickly, I bit down harshly on the inside of my lip, drawing a bit of blood before forcing me to realize I wasn't dreaming. A small yelp escaped from my throat, more in surprise than pain. My angel flashed his famous smirk; the first time I've seen it in years. 

I couldn't believe it; we were finally going to be okay. 


End file.
